shit poem

Quality embodies substance.  This, absolutely true.  No tense to imply otherwise, no verb to imply [being].
Traits describe process.
Oh, great beginning, associatèd with time, last, final destination of beginning and end.  Quote-unquote Terence McKenna: "History is the shock wave of eschatology."  Meaning, that teleology itself attractor which somehow remains outside of time.
Rolling density, confirming my actuality!  Leading us on towards said eschaton.
If you do not care one iota about something, it means you do not care about it even one little bit.  Something very small, indeed.
Beginning three degrees from ending.  Unit of meaning, describing process.
To what degree does freedom make you statistic?  It depends upon your frequency and spatiality!  How close to me you lie.
And, going back to final destination, remaining still, until next initiation.
Attributes personify personality that exists in true beauty.  ἀρετή, s'épanouit!
Up until grade of Ego Dominus Liminis, virtue conquers everything, and then there comes dissolving.
Pure dissolution!  Erotomanic orgasm, yet melancholic separation.
Feature presentation, gothic rerun, bleachèd skin, new beginnings, falling in love for first time.  History repeats itself?  I felt it dawning and then fell into relapsing.  Relapse of addictions making me sick.  Sick-and-alive!
Brandèd mark upon your skin, feel pain going in, like a tattoo, only with liquid nitrogen.  Faint outline of heart shape remains.  Still remains.
Properties of Quality make for unifying all dialectics, transcending third estate(s).
Too borèd to finish.  Wine tomorrow!

Sick-and-alive: gimme five!